Vincent
“Shh, Nadia, it’s all right. It’s all right,” Vincent repeated, hoping his voice was reaching through the fog of Nadia’s nightmares. He kept her hand wrapped comfortingly in his.
She looked so pale and wan, twitching limply in the bed despite the weakness that Kael – that bastard – had brought on her with his ill-conceived rejection. Vincent would never forgive the boy for the pain he’d inflicted on Nadia.
Her panic and obvious suffering when she’d woken up in the villa had wrenched his heart. The urge to comfort her, to soothe her every hurt or worry, had been overwhelming. He’d found himself speaking more softly and acting more gently than he’d realised he was even capable of.
Now, with Nadia’s eyes screwed up in terror as she cried out in her nightmare, Vincent just hoped
